The Only One He Ever Wanted
by StolenSouls
Summary: His whole life was around one person...the story of Mr. Mellark/Mrs. Everdeen


He had watched her since the beginning of school-since the beginning of his life it seemed. She was always between the twins, her blond hair matched theirs, making it appear as though she were their sister. She was effortless beauty; her eyes lit up the corners of his heart. Looking at her was the same as looking at the sun: he couldn't do it for long.

She had always been different from the other girls. While they gossiped and discussed nothing but boys and clothes, she was always at another table with the Donner twins, whispering about something or another. She was a fully grown swan who knew there were more important things in life. Everything about her intrigued him: her musical laughter, her occasional smile, her blue eyes so similar to his own.

Gradually, he realized that he went to school for _her_. He woke up everyday to see _her_. His life had become a circle around the exquisite, mysterious girl.

Then came the day he had finally mustered up the courage to talk to her. The one day he would never forget in his life. During lunch, he walked to her table, ignoring the stares of his friends. and dropped a loaf of bread into her arms. Nut bread. For a second, he froze: _what am I doing?_ But then her eyes stared into his. That was the strength he needed. And so he stammered out, "I had some extra loaves."

But she seemed to understand. She had heard everything he didn't say. She took his hand and said, "Thank you."

That single loaf of bread and unspoken conversation was the beginning of everything. His life, her life, her happiness, and his heartache. Every day, during lunch, he would put a loaf into her hands. She would always accept it with a smile that was only for him. One day, she asked him if she could give it to the children of the Seam. He didn't object, of course. He could understand what it seemed like to them: food traveling between the hands of the wealthy while they starved on the streets.

Weeks later, he asked her out. It was so sudden. He was just watching her writing a letter on an empty table after school. And then he was walking-no, running-until he was in front of her. She looked surprised to see him there, but she said, "Yes."

It was that night, that night before the Reaping, when she kissed him for the first time. He was forcing a cheese bun down his throat while suggesting that he walk her home. He reached for her hand, and suddenly her lips brushed against his. A strong scent of chamomile filled the air as she pulled him closer. His mouth melted against her lips and for a second it was just them in an empty bakery, free from anything else in the world. His fingers explored her smooth locks of hair, silently marveling at it's soft, tender texture. There was heat radiating from the both of them, as if they had both been wanting this for a long time. After minutes, hours, days even, they broke apart. As she walked back home, they were just like little children: jumping up and down with fantasies for the future.

The Reaping changed it all. He saw the shock on her face when Maysilee was chosen. Throughout the games, he was holding her hand, trying to calm her down, telling her everything would be all right. He doubted she had noticed him though: her eyes never once ripped away from the television. When Maysilee died, she passed out. One minute she was sitting, her face attentive. Then suddenly she was on the floor. If it weren't for the heavy beating of her heart, he would have mistaken her to be dead.

But it didn't make any difference. Afterwards, when Haymitch Abernathy won the games, Parcel Day hit District 12. While the children ran with food in their arms, squealing with joy, she just sat in a chair, staring at nothing in particular. He tried and tried. He made her favorite types of bread. He dropped by every morning to coax her out of bed. But she was anything but dead. She just lay in her bed most of the time, not responding at all.. She would go to school, but sit far from everyone else. When he gave her bread, she would take it without looking at him. Maysilee's sister was gone, lost in her own grief. His swan, the girl he cared so deeply for, had shut herself off from everyone around her. She was alone inside herself.

Then, when they were seventeen, he came. The son of a coal-miner. One of the many people from the Seam. Nothing special in particular. That's what he thought when he first saw the Everdeen boy. But then he opened his mouth...

The song made her lift her eyes for the first time in months. Everyday the Everdeen boy sang the same song. It wasn't long before he realized he had a rival for her affections. And then one day-the worst in his life-she stood up and linked her arm through _his_. The coal-miner. The boy from the Seam. The man who poached in the woods every week.

He tried everything he could. He always gave her bread now. He talked to her whenever he could. After that didn't work, he got himself a girl, hoping to arouse some of the feelings she still might have had for him. But none of that worked. She no longer cared about the wealth of the village. Her eyes, and her smile, were for only one person now. She was no longer his.

When they married, it was done quietly. She didn't notice him among the guests, with his hair dyed black and his face powdered with coal dust. Or did she? After the wedding, their eyes had met for a second. Then he turned around and left that place forever.

He married of course. He had his three boys and ran the bakery. Yet every time he went to sleep, he saw _her_ in his dreams. He felt her touch, her lips on his, her hand on his cheek. He heard her laugh, her whisper, her voice. On Peeta's first day of school, he cracked. He shouldn't have told Peeta about his past, about what might have been, but seeing her daughter was too much for him to bear. It was too late, however. He saw the look in his son's eyes and realized they were in the same boat now. As her mother held his heart, her daughter, Katniss Everdeen, would forever hold his son's.

It was he who made the suggestion when he saw the girl in the rain six years later. He hinted the idea to his youngest son-who understood him more than anyone else had-and left the room. He watched from a window as Peeta handed the loaves over. It gave him hope that his son might have the chance to win the girl he loved...that there would be no Reaping to stop them this time. He had hoped that his son would never be tormented by the heartache that followed him into his dreams.

Five years later, he swallowed his words when the girl walked up to the platform. He regretted them again when his son soon joined them. The final goodbye consisted of a hug which said everything between them. They couldn't bear to say anything. The cookies were more or less gratitude. Gratitude toward this girl who would be with his son as he died, gratitude for the girl who took care of his love this whole time. If something happened, there would be no one to help her and the other daughter. No one but him.

Their return was so surprising for him. Still, he could see the pain in his son's face. He could see the hurt in his son's heart when he learned that the Everdeen girl's love for him was all an act. There was nothing between them-even though he thought there was.

Then his son was ripped from his hands again. And so was her daughter. There was nothing left for him now. Nothing except...her.

And then static hit the televisions. When the first bomb struck, he didn't move. The bombs continued to pour, like raindrops. The house was turning red. And then he finally saw her. She smiled and reached for his arm. He was surprised how much she resembled an angel.

"I've been waiting for you," she said. Her hand stretched towards his. It didn't take much of an effort to get up. He was part of the air now, able to fly into her arms.

"Don't leave me again," he begged. She responded with a kiss. It started out soft, but then their lips hardened as they grasped each other tightly.

When they separated, she held out his hand for his. He responded by lifting her into his arms. She laughed and never loosened her arms circled around his neck.

The feel of her pressed against him was perfection. The smell of her was home. The taste of her kiss harkened back until a simpler time, before so much had happened. He realized that she was, still, a dream. He realized that there was no chance for their love. Not when life and death were between them.

Somehow it was always the Reaping that got in the way. The Reaping, which killed Maysilee. The Reaping, which nearly killed his son. And now, the Reaping of District 12.

Except this time, there were no second chances.


End file.
